


love hurts (could you bear it for me?)

by dimension



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Lonely Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 11:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18589915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimension/pseuds/dimension
Summary: Modern AU. Clarke deals with the repercussions of a lie Finn tells.





	love hurts (could you bear it for me?)

**Author's Note:**

> Title based off lyrics from Barcelona Boots by Arlie

The sharp wooden corner of Clarke’s chair is uncomfortable, pressing marks into the exposed skin where her casual dress cuts off mid-thigh. She shifts to alleviate some of the pain. 

Clarke glances over the breakfast section of the menu in her hands. Nothing appeals to her. It’s not the restaurant’s fault. The place is nice; clean booths, good lighting, modern aesthetic, pleasant staff. But it’s nine in the morning. Clarke is tired and her stomach is in knots over what happened the night before. Food doesn’t sound appealing.

The waitress appears with the pitcher of mimosas Clarke ordered.

“Are you still expecting someone?” The waitress inquires, a polite smile curling her lips but not reaching her eyes.

“My friend will be here soon.” Clarke responds.

The waitress leaves and Clarke pours herself a generous drink.

Her phone pings on the table.

 _I’ll be there in five minutes!_ Raven’s message reads.

Clarke was expecting the text. Raven is habitually late to events, it’s her one and only flaw. It doesn’t matter where they’re going. Bar, club, movie, dinner — everyone can count on Raven walking in half an hour after said event has started.

True to her word, Raven walks into the restaurant five minutes later, collapsing into the seat across from Clarke. Her mouth is set in a pout, and she’s wearing the large sunglasses that Clarke knows for a fact she only wears when she doesn’t have time to do her eyebrows.

“Hey.” Clarke greets softly, her heart aching just at the thought of having to tell Raven what happened.

Raven frowns, peeling her sunglasses off and burying her face in the menu.

“I already ordered drinks. Our usual.” Clarke informs her.

Raven sets her menu down, looking at Clarke with a blank expression. There’s dark marks under her eyes, deep and telling.

“Maybe I should have ordered shots of tequila instead.” Clarke jokes under her breath, trying to lighten the mood.

Raven is not amused.

“Cut the crap.” Raven hisses. “Why did you ask me to come here?”

Clarke blinks in surprise, her heart beat picking up. She squares her shoulders and takes a steadying breath.

“Finn... He came onto me last night.” Clarke confesses, watching Raven carefully for her reaction.

Raven laughs, a short dry chuckle. Clarke is stunned.

“Finn told me you’d say that.” Raven responds passively. “So predictable, and a little pathetic.”

“I-It’s the truth.” Clarke stammers.

“You version of the truth, maybe. Finn told me what really happened.”

Clarke shrinks in her chair, Raven’s cold gaze making her feel small.

“What did he say?”

“That you invited him to get drinks alone. He went because he’s a sweet guy, if not a little naive sometimes. And then you kissed him.”

Clarke’s mouth drops open as she shakes her head.

Her mind flashes back to memories of the night before—Finn’s hand suddenly gripping her knee, his mouth swiftly pressing against hers. She was so shocked that she didn’t move at first, but when her brain caught up she pulled away, peeling his fingers off her leg and stuttering in confusion as she ran away. She couldn’t imagine why he would think that was okay. Raven is his girlfriend, one of Clarke’s closest friend. Clarke could never hurt Raven like that.

“No.” Clarke insists. “Finn kissed _me._ And he was the one who invited me for drinks. I only went because I assumed all our friends would be there. I can show you our texts.” Clarke scrambles to unlock her phone. “I can prove he was the one—”

“I don’t want to see it.” Raven grits through her teeth. “Why would my boyfriend lie to me?”

Clarke leans forward. “To cover his tracks. He’s not a good guy, Raven, he’s a cheater. I didn’t want to have to tell you this.”

“Oh, please.” Raven rolls her eyes. “I bet you love all this attention. You’re happy to be getting in the middle of Finn and I.”

Clarke’s mouth drops open.

“You know I would never do this to you.”

Raven cocks an eyebrow and crosses her arms. “No. I should have expected this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarke asks.

“You’re a huge flirt with _everyone,_ especially when you drink. You flirt with me, you flirt with Bellamy even though I’ve told you how he feels about you and it’s wrong to play with his emotions.”

Clarke let’s out an exaggerated sigh, tilting her head back. She’s heard this one before.

“Bellamy and I are friends. He’s not—”

“The point is,” Raven interrupts. “You flirt with Finn too. I just never thought you would act on it.”

There’s an ache building in Clarke’s chest.

“Is that really what you think of me? After years of friendship?”

Raven puts her sunglasses on and loops her arm through the straps of her purse.

“If you’re able to kiss my boyfriend, we were never friends in the first place.”

Raven stands and leaves.

Clarke is left feeling both shocked and confused.

 

* * *

 

It takes Clarke a while to realize what’s happening.

For the first few days after her breakfast with Raven, she notices her friends stop responding to her texts. When she checks their usual group chats, she discovers she’s been removed from them. The only friend who does text her is Harper, and it’s just to cancel dinner plans. When she locks eyes with Jasper at Mecha, her favorite coffee shop, instead of returning her small smile, his eyes widen and he bolts out of the store.

It clicks in Clarke’s mind. She’s been excommunicated, essentially shunned by her friend group. All because Finn lied and they believe him.

It’s so outrageous that Clarke almost doesn’t want to accept it. She wants to give them the benefit of the doubt, assume everyone simultaneously got really busy. But when she checks her social media, she finds out she’s been soft blocked by most of her friends. They’ve all been posting pictures of them hanging out without her. Murphy even pinned a thread on twitter, ranting about the importance of cutting toxic people out of your life, which seems pretty clearly directed at her.

It sucks. It sucks so much that Clarke cries herself to sleep a few nights in a row.

The only person Clarke cares enough to reach out to is Bellamy. He hasn’t been returning her calls either, but Clarke refuses to believe he’s cut her. He would never.

He wouldn’t believe Finn’s story, and even if he did, he would come straight to Clarke to discuss it with her. And when he heard the truth, Bellamy would stand up for Clarke, defend her, take her side. Because he’s her best friend, her person.

She makes excuses for him in her head. He’s an author, and when he finds inspiration he has to take advantage of it. Sometimes he’ll spend days locked away in his apartment, writing until he can’t anymore. He’ll forget to check his phone, his email, even forget to eat for an entire day.

And that’s what is going on now, Clarke decides. He must be writing. He has to be. There’s no other reason he wouldn’t be calling her back.

 

* * *

 

It’s Friday night, Clarke’s book isn’t holding her interest, and Bellamy still hasn’t texted back. All her friends still hate her and, honestly, she just wants her best friend to comfort her. So she throws on a jacket and heads for his apartment.

Bellamy sounds shocked to see her when he opens the door.

“Clarke.” He greets, eyebrows high.

Instead of inviting her in, he steps out into the hallway with her, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, stranger.” Clarke looks up at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Clarke frowns.

“You aren’t responding to any of my messages.”

Bellamy swallows. “I’ve been busy.”

“I understand. But everyone I know currently hates me. I’m not sure if you’ve heard.”

There’s a flash of empathy in Bellamy’s eyes.

He almost looks guilty as he speaks. “Raven’s inside.” He confesses, pointing his thumb towards the apartment behind him.

Clarke’s face falls, her lips parting in surprise. “So you haven’t been writing. You’ve been ignoring me.”

The sting in her gut only grows as Bellamy makes no move to deny it. His eyes shift to the floor.

“Raven’s not in a good place right now. She needs support.”

Clarke scoffs. “Yeah and the people I thought were my friends are accusing me of being a slutty home-wrecker, I’m not doing too great either. Though no one seems to be worried about me.”

Betrayal nauseates her stomach.

Bellamy rubs at the back of his neck. “Maybe this will all blow over, but I think you need to respect Raven. Give her some space.”

Clarke takes a step forward, maintaining unwavering eye contact with Bellamy.

“I’m not here for Raven. She can have all the space she wants. I’m here for _you._ ”

“Clarke.” He sighs. Clarke’s shoulders drop. Just from his tone, she can sense he’s not going to tell her what she wants to hear. Her heart aches. “It’s best if you give _everyone_ space right now. Raven needs a safe environment so she can heal from all this.”

There’s a sting behind Clarke’s eyes.

“You’re saying that _you_ want space.”

“How do you expect me to act after what you did?” Bellamy hisses. “You had to have known this was coming. As a friend of Raven I have to stand up for her—”

“Wait.” Clarke interrupts. “You don’t actually think I tried to kiss Finn?”

Bellamy’s mouth drops open, searching for the right words. Clarke takes a step back. Bellamy hates Finn, he should see straight through his lie. He should know Clarke would never do that.

Clarke’s face is warm. She’s trying her best to keep her breaths steady but they keep coming out faster, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Bellamy finally speaks. “Raven said you did.”

“Raven is _lying._ She wasn’t there, she doesn’t know what really happened. She just wants to believe Finn because it’s more convenient for her to kick me out of her life than to admit her longtime boyfriend cheated on her.”

Bellamy stammers. “I don’t know Clarke.”

Clarke’s eyebrows draw together. “You really don’t believe me?” She accuses.

“Some things don’t add up. Why were you even there in the first place?”

Clarke huffs. “I shouldn’t have met Finn at that bar, okay? I can admit that. And I should have left when I realized no one else coming. But I didn’t do anything else wrong, and I _definitely_ didn’t kiss Finn.”

Bellamy wrings his hands together, looking uncertain.

“Were you giving him any signals, or—”

“I wasn’t _asking for it,_ ” Clarke spits out, disgusted.

“That’s not what I was saying.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Clarke slowly backs away, her entire body feeling heavy. “I’m just-I’m done. This has shown me what I needed to see.”

She’s not going to waste her time trying to convince Bellamy. Her pride won’t allow her, won’t let her beg him to believe her, tell him how much she needs him, that she has no one else, that he was supposed to be by her side, that she was so sure she could count on him.

Clarke turns and walks down the hallway.

Bellamy doesn’t follow her.

 

* * *

 

A month passes.

Clarke doesn’t speak to Bellamy, doesn’t speak to anyone from her ex-friend group. She hasn’t made an effort to reach out to them, and they certainly haven’t tried getting in contact with her.

There are times when Clarke wonders if she’s actually in the wrong. Maybe she is horrible for letting Finn kiss her, maybe she deserves all her friends hating her. She’s not sure of anything.

In the moments between classes and work, the moments where she has a second to actually think, she daydreams about punching Finn, yelling at Raven, screaming at Bellamy. It’s cathartic.

Clarke decides to view everything that happened to her as an opportunity. Having no friends to go out with means she can finally read the books that have been sitting untouched on her shelf since she bought them. And she’ll have plenty of time to stay caught up in her classes, and she can watch the tv shows in her queue.

Wells got back from his overseas program a week ago, which mean she has approximately one friend in the area.Wells is a great listener. Clarke spends hours ranting to him about the whole Finn ordeal, and he offers nothing but unwavering support. It’s refreshing.

It’s a cool night when Clarke and Wells decide to go out.

When they arrive at The Dropship, they can hear muffled music humming even from outside the bar doors.

Stepping inside, basking in the wave of heat the immediately hits them, Clarke’s eyes shift around the room. She freezes.

Sitting in a booth, not even twenty feet away from her, are all her old friends. They’re laughing and smiling. Clarke’s heart stutters at the sight. This is the first time she’s seen most of them since their fallout.

Part of her had held onto the hope that they were all miserable without her. That maybe when they cut her off something broke within the group, and it just wasn’t the same without her.

Yet here they are. Enjoying themselves like she never existed, like they’re better off without her. It stings.

Clarke turns to Wells, who is already staring at her with a guarded gaze.

“Let’s leave.” Clarke mumbles. “I don’t want to be here with them. We can go to Pike’s.”

Wells scrunches his nose. “Pike’s is dirty, and they skimp on alcohol. Why don’t we stay here. It’s not like your ex-friends own the bar.”

Clarke _really_ wants to leave. Pressure is building in her gut. She may explode with nerves any second.

“I’m leaving.”

“One drink.” Wells asks of her. “We’ll sit down for one drink and then we can leave if you still want.”

Clarke swallows.

“Okay.” She concedes.

Unfortunately, in order to reach the bar and order their drinks, they have to walk right past the booth her old friends sit at. It’s unavoidable.

Clarke keeps her head low as they walk, hoping she can disappear behind Wells’ large frame and sneak past the booth unnoticed.

She’s not so fortunate.

“Well if it isn’t the prince and the princess.” Murphy drawls in their direction. “I would’ve worn something nicer if I knew I’d be in the presence of royalty.”

Clarke plans on just ignoring him, but Wells comes to a full halt. His chest expands, and Clarke can _sense_ he’s about to speak up her her defense. She tugs on his arm in panic.

“Just let it go.” She tells Wells who glances at her. Her eyes are pleading.

“It was only so long before you came crawling back, Clarke.” Murphy tries again, clearly desiring to get a reaction out of her. “I was having a good night, but now I’m annoyed. Why do you have to ruin everything?”

“Can’t you see we don’t need you anymore?” Raven chimes.

Clarke glances over at the table and locks eyes with Bellamy. He’s not watching her with the hatred the other have, but he’s not defending her either. Clarke feels tears prickle behind her eyes. The Bellamy she knew would never sit there unbothered as insults were hurled at her.

“Leave her be guys.” Monty mutters, but the damage is already done.

Clarke’s vision blurs as she turns around, stumbling towards the exit.

Wells follows her.

“Clarke—”

“Don’t ask me to go back there, cause I won’t. I’m leaving.”

Clarke’s face is burning. She’s humiliated and upset and she told herself she didn’t care that all her friends hate her but that was a lie.

“That’s not what I was gonna say.” Wells tells her as she breaks through the doors.

Crisp air stings her face instantly, numbing her so that she’s not able to feel the streak of salty tears that roll down her face when she blinks.

She turns to Wells expectantly.

“Let’s stop by the drugstore on your block.” Wells offers. “All the vodka you could ever need, on me.”

Clarke let’s out a blubbery short laugh, folding into Wells side as he squeezes her tight against him with an arm around her shoulder.

When they get back to her apartment, Wells listens as she works through her feelings. She spends a good hour re-obsessing over all the things she thought she had gotten over. It feels like she’s back at square one.

By the time Wells is heading out, she’s not anywhere near drunk, but she does have a pleasant buzz that helps numb how miserable she is.

Clarke opens the door to let Wells out.

Bellamy stands on the other side, fist suspended in the air.

Clarke’s eyes widen.

Everything fades away as they stand there, frozen, staring at each other.

It’s Wells who breaks the silence, hands in fists by his side.

“It was good seeing you, Clarke. Have a nice night.” Wells steps out into the hallway. “I’ll show you the way out, Bellamy.”

Bellamy squares his shoulders, jaw set.

“I’m here to see Clarke.” He responds.

Wells shakes his head, poorly concealing an eye roll.

“After everything you’ve put her through, you really think she wants—”

“It’s fine, Wells.” Clarke interrupts, though she’s not sure what possessed her to speak up.

Wells turns to face Clarke fully, his eyebrows drawn in concern.

“Clarke.” His voice is a whisper, though Bellamy can obviously hear them anyways. “This is not a good idea.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t owe him anything. You have every right to turn him away.”

Clarke crosses her arms. “I want to hear him out.”

Wells steps away, a vaguely disappointed look on his face. They turn back to Bellamy, who’s waiting with his hands shoved in his pants pockets, his eyes on the floor.

“Text me when you get home.” Clarke tells Wells.

Hesitantly, he walks away. Clarke and Bellamy are left alone.

The silence between them is static, Clarke leans her hip against the doorpost, watching Bellamy expectantly.

“How have you been?” He asks, voice rough.

Clarke resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Great.” She answers shortly.

“Good. I’m glad.”

Clarke raises a hand to massage her temple.

“Is that all you came here for? To ask how I’m doing?"

Bellamy straightens his posture, looking a bit remorseful.

“No, of course not. I...” He pauses, eyes flicking over her before continuing. “Six days.”

Clarke waits for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.

She huffs. “I don’t have time for riddles.”

“Since we’ve known each other, six days is the longest we’ve gone without speaking. We got into a fight about—”

“Lexa. I remember.”

Clarke fidgets at the memory.

“We stopped talking for six days. That was as long as we could hold out. Until now.”

Clarke smiles sadly. “This one isn’t my fault.”

She refuses to take the blame.

“I know.” Bellamy’s tone is grim, filled with regret. It’s not enough.

“Do you? This isn’t some pointless fight where we both said the wrong thing.” Her heartbeat is fast. “This is me thinking you were done with me forever. And I _needed_ you. I thought of all people, you would get it, you would be there for me. But you weren’t.”

Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut for a second, then opens them. “I know it means nothing, but I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” Bellamy doesn’t hesitate to respond. “For not being there for you, not defending you.”

Clarke tilts her head. “But _why?_ Why did you do it? All you had to do was _try_ to understand my side, then everything would have been fine. You were my best friend, but apparently I meant nothing to you. And now we’re ruined and...” Clarke swallows. “I don’t think there’s any way we can get back to what we were.” Her heart hurts. “Did I really mean that little to you? That letting go of our friendship was so easy?”

“Of course it wasn’t easy.” Bellamy hisses. “I was put in an uncomfortable situation, having to choose between you and all my other friends. I thought I had to be there for Raven.”

“Raven had everyone _._ ” Clarke‘s voice cracks over the outburst. “She had _everyone else._ I needed someone. I needed you to be there for me. Did you-did _anyone_ care to think about how awful all this made me feel? I had Raven’s creepy boyfriend push himself on me, and then he made up a half-hearted lie to cover his own tracks. But instead of seeing straight through his lie, all my friends turned on my without even blinking. You were supposed to be there for me. I’m _so mad_ at you for ruining us like this. Where were you?”

Bellamy’s eyes find the ground. “What do you want me to say? I wasn’t there for you, I can own up to that. I regret it, and I’m sorry about it.”

“I wish you being sorry made it any better, I really do.” Clarke worries her lip. “It doesn’t.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He sounds distraught. “I assumed you were strong enough to deal with all this on your own — and you are — but I forgot you shouldn’t have to be. You should have had someone standing up for you. That’s why I’m here. I can’t change how I acted in the past, but I want to be here for you now.”

Clarke holds his gaze steady, her own eyes stinging.

Had he been here right after everything happened, it would be different. Had he been here a few days after it happened, it would be different. But after a month of him not caring about her at all, she’s not sure she can just forget and move on.

A piece of her aches to cling to his newfound approval of her, to take whatever she can get of him with graciousness. Clarke fights to stay strong, to resist that urge. If she forgave him now, they would never be the same.

“You broke us, and then you didn’t even try to fix us.”

“I’m trying now.” He pleads.

Clarke trembles.

“It’s too late, Bellamy.”

Bellamy swallows heavily, his eyes sad.

“I understand.”

The corners of Clarke’s lips turn downward into a frown. Her mood is somber as she watches him turn around and walk down the hallway, away from her.

 

* * *

 

Clarke doesn’t hate Bellamy. It’s possibly her biggest problem.

She wants to hate him. There were even times when she thought she did. But she could never bring herself to delete his number, block him, get rid of all the photos of him in her camera roll.

He may have hurt her, but he’s a good caring person. She still wishes him happiness.

Part of her thinks he deserves a second try. Clarke’s always believed that forgiveness was vital. But as to whether she should try and be friends with him again, she’s entirely unsure.

She’s lonely, embarrassingly so, and Bellamy had stood before her and offered to fill that void. To be her friend again. It’s tempting to take him up on that offer. Pitifully, she’s nearly desperate to have his approval again.

But if she chooses to rekindle their friendship, what’s to stop him from hurting her all over again? She’s not sure she could relive that heartache.

It’s that fear that prevents her from making any move. She doesn’t reach out to Bellamy, no matter how many times her thumb hovers over his number, still saved in her favorites. She never calls.

 

* * *

 

Clarke’s head is buried in her textbook. The airpods in her ears are humming low-fi tunes.

The earthy aroma of coffee focuses her senses, helping her to not be distracted by the busy coffee-shop she sits in.

The legs of the chair in front of her screech, loud enough that Clarke hears it over her music. She takes an earbud out and looks up. Her eyes widen as she spots Bellamy, falling into the chair across from her.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” He asks, though he’s already sitting.

Clarke nods. It’s a busy place, and seating can be impossible to find. She can endure his presence for an hour. Though she’s not sure why he’s here. She recalls him regularly complaining the coffee here is nothing more than overpriced burnt acid. And he usually likes to write in the privacy of his home, a controlled environment.

Clarke shrugs, deciding not to overthink it. She puts her earbud back in and turns back to her textbook.

At first, they don’t speak. The only interaction they have is when Bellamy asks Clarke to watch his laptop while he uses the restroom.

Still, it’s electrifying to be in his presence.

It’s possible Clarke has been starved of human connection for too long. Sure, she has Wells. But Wells is busy, and only one person.

When Bellamy gets back from the restroom, he has a drink in his hand. He sets it on her half of the table.

“I noticed your cup was empty,” is all he mutters before he turns back to his laptop.

Clarke stares at the drink for a while. He’s not supposed to take care of her like this anymore. It feels too good.

Clarke sips at the drink anyways(she’s not going to waste free coffee). It’s possible Bellamy takes this as a sign, because he begins to mutter offhanded comments to her as they sit together. Clarke doesn’t put much effort into her responses. If he makes a statement, she hums in agreement. If he makes a joke, she offers a small smile, whereas in the past she would’ve laughed out loud, maybe a little more than the joke called for. But she’s not in the mood to flatter him.

When her phone goes off with a reminder, _Dinner With Mom @ 7,_ Clarke packs her things.

Before their fallout, Clarke might have cancelled her plans just to spend a little more time with Bellamy. She’s almost tempted to now.

But Bellamy’s not the type of person Clarke is going to cancel plans for anymore. That’s not what they are. So she leaves, pretending she doesn’t catch the longing look in Bellamy’s eyes as she tells him goodbye.

 

* * *

 

Clarke sees Bellamy again a few days later.

She’s an hour into her shift at the museum when he walks through the entrance. He asks for a tour of the contemporary wing, claiming he’s doing research for his book.

Clarke could never turn away a paying customer, especially not on the basis of hurt feelings. Museums have a hard enough time getting funding as is. And, since tours were the main reason she was hired, she’s the one who has to take him around.

Clarke swallows down the lump in her throat that forms every time she looks at him, thinks of what he did to her.

As they walk through the exhibit, she allows herself to forget they ever fought. Bellamy doesn’t bring up Raven, and Clarke doesn’t bring up the month they spent not saying a word to each other.

And because of that, it’s easy to fall back into their natural chemistry. They talk and laugh, and it’s like nothing ever changed. Clarke realizes just how much she missed having friends, having _fun._

Just for the hour, Clarke lets herself pretend he never hurt her.

 

* * *

 

Clarke runs into Bellamy again two days after the tour at the museum.

She’s finishing her jog. Sweat has plastered strands of hair to her forehead, and there’s a pink flush on the skin of her neck. She’s wearing yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt that sports her school’s letters. As she rounds the corner of her apartment building, she halts.

Bellamy stands outside the door. He’s bundled in clothes, down jacket zipped up to the collar. His lips are a rosy pink, a slightly different shade that the harsh red that stains the tip of his nose.

He stands up straight when he spots her. Clarke walks up to him.

“Hi.” He greets, maintaining eye contact. “I got these for you.”

Clarke looks down, noticing the brown paper bag in his hand that’s being held out to her. She takes the bag, opening it up. Inside the bag is two steaming everything bagel’s, her favorite.

“Thanks.” Clarke mutters, the scent of the bagels going straight to her hungering stomach.

That’s when Clarke realizes. She hasn’t been running into Bellamy on accident this past week. He’s been seeking her out, putting himself in places he knows she frequents. She’s not sure why. Maybe as an apology, maybe to try and mend their broken friendship.

A piece of her heart warms, bathing in the attention he’s giving her. She’s supposed to be stronger, to be mad for longer, but she can’t bring herself to turn him away.

 

* * *

 

Clarke doesn’t tell Bellamy she knows he’s seeking her out. And he keeps doing it.

He’ll be at her favorite park, show up at the library during her study hour, he even appeared at her gym once.

The more it happens, the easier it is for Clarke to forget he hated her for a month. At first they just greet each other, maybe share a brief conversation. Brief conversations slowly turn into longer conversations. Before Clarke knows it, every time they see each other, they spend half an hour talking.

It’s easy to fall back into a friendship with him, to allow their natural intimacy to flow. At some point they start texting, and then they start hanging out intentionally. Suddenly, it’s like nothing ever changed. They’re best friends again.

Except it’s slightly different. Clarke doesn’t know how to explain what’s shifted in their new friendship. It’s simply more intense.

Bellamy is much more attentive, more aware of Clarke. It’s endearing. She finds herself watching him in ways she never did before, longing for him like she never had. Clarke knew Bellamy was attractive before, there was no way to not notice it, but becoming friends with him again was like seeing him in a new light. Everything he does affects her in a strong way. When he smiles, her heart swells. When he chews on the end of his pen, her heart beat picks up. When his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, Clarke finds herself dreaming of his mouth.

There are times when she thinks Bellamy might feel the same. But she never says anything. They have been through so much recently, the last thing their friendship needs is the awkwardness of a possibly unrequited confession of feelings.

 

* * *

 

“Raven and Finn broke up.”

Clarke’s eyes snap to Bellamy. She lowers her book into her lap. He’s sitting on the other end of the couch, scrolling aimlessly through her tv.

“I don’t care.” Clarke responds flatly.

Her sock covered feet rest against Bellamy’s thigh.

“He cheated on her.”

“Still don’t care.” Clarke responds, though her heart hurts for Raven.

They fall back into a comfortable silence.

It bothers Clarke a little that Bellamy still hangs out with her old friends, that he doesn’t hate them for what they did to her. But it’s not something she feels the need to mention. She has no right to control his social life.

Bellamy clears his throat, setting the remote down and looking at Clarke.

“I think Raven knows she was wrong about everything that happened between you and Finn.” His tone is careful, like he doesn’t want to upset her.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Clarke insists softly.

“It should.”

Clarke chews on her lip. “Why?”

“What she did was wrong. She hurt you.”

“You hurt me too, Bellamy.” Clarke points out, not unkindly.

Bellamy frowns, like even the memory pains him.

“I apologized for that. It’s not enough, but it’s something. Raven should apologize.”

Clarke presses her lips together. “Raven doesn’t do anything Raven doesn’t want to do. She’s stubborn. I can’t force an apology out of her and I’m not going to sit around waiting for one to come. If she wants to mend our friendship, she can come to me. Until then, it’s better for my own sanity if I just let it go.”

Bellamy frowns. “It’s not _just_ Raven, it’s everyone. They ask about you all the time. They miss you.”

“They have a funny was of showing it,” Clarke mutters under her breath.

Bellamy looks down, eyebrows furrowed. “I think they’re scared to reach out. And they’re ashamed of what they did to you- what _we all_ did to you. But they don’t hate you anymore. You should know that.”

Bellamy is getting so worked up in her defense, which is nice of him, but Clarke learned long ago she has to move past it all.

“Hey Bellamy?” Clarke coons sweetly.

“Yeah?”

His eyes are full of warmth when he looks at her. That’s him, Clarke thinks. That’s the man who is her best friend, who loves her, who makes her feel good and cared for. She doesn’t know where he went for a while, but he’s back now.

“Can we talk about something else?”

Bellamy offers a small self-conscious smile.

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

It’s two weeks later when Bellamy brings it up again.

They’re in his kitchen. Clarke is leaning against a counter as they wait for their food to arrive. Bellamy is mixing them drinks, spoon clacking against the glass cup as he spins the liquid.

“I want to be honest with you.” Bellamy announces, turning to face her. He hands her a drink.

Clarke eyes Bellamy, taking a sip of her drink and enjoying the way the strong liquid hits her tongue.

“Okay.” She responds slowly after she swallows.

“I’ve been thinking a lot and I think- well I _know_ there’s a reason I didn’t believe you when Raven told me what Finn said.”

Clarke’s shoulders fall. “Do we have to talk about this?”

She wants to be over it all. Every time she thinks of it, emotions flood her. The unworthiness she felt, the rejection, they’re all back at the forefront.

“Please let me say this.” Bellamy asks.

His eyes are seeking her permission and it’s hard to say no to him.

“Go ahead.” She permits, setting her drink on the counter to give him her full attention.

Bellamy nods gratefully, pursing his lips.

“I always hated Finn. You know that, I was pretty vocal about it.” Clarke bites back a smile. He was _very_ vocal in his dislike for Finn. “When Raven told me you made a pass at him, I was so upset and blinded by jealousy.” Bellamy pauses. Clarke’s breath hitches. “I wasn’t thinking straight. My judgement was clouded. I know now that you didn’t kiss him. But when I believed you did, I think I wanted to be mad at you, for doing that with him and not with m—”

“ _Bellamy._ ” Clarke’s voice is breathy. Her heart is beating wildly. “If you’re about to make some sort of confession, _please_ don’t make it about Finn and Raven.”

Bellamy watches her, his pupils blown wide.

“Right. Sorry.” He clears his throat. “I love listening to you talk.” Clarke’s not breathing. “I love the way you see the world, how you’re so kind. It makes me want to be a better person. And I love that you’re stubborn too, and independent. Sometimes I think I don’t deserve your friendship, especially after the things I’ve done, but you always make me feel like I’m worthy. And I love that. I love—"

Clarke doesn’t let him finish, rushing forward and pressing her mouth against his. Her entire body tingles. Bellamy reciprocates immediately, cupping her face in his hands and holding her lips against his. His mouth is soft, his hands so rough, scratching her cheeks. All she can do is _feel._

She pulls away.

Bellamy’s eyes are still closed, and there’s a smile slowly growing wider and wider on his face.

Clarke herself feels giddy.

She just kissed Bellamy. Bellamy loves her.

Clarke takes a deep breath before she speaks.

“I love you too.”

 


End file.
